Sweet Wood

Sweet Wood

Chips and bits of lumber
Tumbled through the afternoon sun.
Gold and gleaming pine dust
Fragranced the air
As dad ripped lumber
For the next day’s work
The saw blade spinning and screaming
The tortured complaint
Painful to my ears.

Strange that memory falls upon me
As I watch you spin away
The bits and chips of what
I knew as love
Flying and falling
Through the morning air
My soul screaming
Screeching
Words slashing
And sore.

I carry
The marriage
Of those memories
Like pictures in a wallet
The union of dad at his saw
And you turning like the blade
Shredding and tearing
The sweet woody pulp
At my core.